Machine
by Invader Phoenix
Summary: He had one wish...One thing that would change his life...  "You aren't yourself. You're only their slave."  "Be quiet. This is what I want."  Your wish is granted...
1. Wish

MACHINE

Zim sat in his living room, shoulders hunched. His ruby eyes stared blankly ahead; simply voids of color that appeared to serve no purpose. His breathing was quiet, the silence in the room interrupted only by the occasional sigh. The TV was off, GIR was off somewhere on his own, leaving the Irken to his own devices. He was not, for once, thinking of new invasion plans. There was no point in thinking of them anymore. After all, everything he ever knew was a lie.

He'd learned the day before, when the Tallest called. Tired of his incessant attempts to please them, they told him the truth. He was a defect. A nothing. His mission was nothing but a lie, his SIR a hunk of scraps. He was the worst of his kind, the one everyone hated. This revelation broke him. He'd failed his Tallest, his Empire, and his people. The guilt was unbearable. But it was that one word, _defect_, which hung specifically in his mind. He played it over and over. _Defect…defect…defect…_

And here he was, sprawled on the couch, drowning in a whirlpool of nothingness. This angst that filled him couldn't be lifted, he thought. Everything from here looked gray and bleak without a mission, without a purpose.

There was a light knocking at his door. He ignored it. But it persisted, growing louder each second. Finally he roused himself and got to his feet. The knocking stopped at once. Zim trudged toward to door, opening it with a moan. There was no one there. Instead, on the step, there was a tiny card. It didn't look like one of those mass-produced advertisements he'd grown accustomed to seeing, but it was hand-written on a slip of yellowed parchment.

_Wishes  
>3408 Hollow Drive<br>Be here at midnight.  
>I know you have a wish.<em>

Zim blinked once. What was this…? This obviously wasn't something to trust. But he _did _have a wish. One thing he wanted more than anything else… He'd do anything to get it. Anything to give his life a purpose again.

Despite the eerie qualities of the note, he walked out the door. After a few minutes, he realized how queer it felt to be moving this much. He'd been lying down sedentary since he'd heard the news. Last night was cold and blurry as he stared at the metal walls of his home, lifeless except for the fact that he was still breathing. It seemed that even GIR knew that he needed to be alone.

The air was chilled with the start of winter. The sun was beginning to set. Shuffling through the streets, the Irken didn't realize that he had no idea where Hollow Drive was. But somehow he made his way through the city; across streets he had never known existed, blind to everything but his own thoughts. And what melancholy thoughts they were. This mysterious card could hold his only chance to make his life right. He was willing to take any risk. Without the Empire, he had nothing.

The sky had been dark for quite a while when he found the address. 3408 Hollow Drive. It was a short, squat place next to an alley. The buildings surrounding it all appeared abandoned. The small shop would have appeared desolate as well, if not for a dim light coming from inside and a faded wooden sign reading "Wishes".

Zim opened the door. The shop was one tiny room. Deep purple and pink curtains were hung about the walls. Vases of roses were scattered on ancient tables, stools, and armoires. The light was coming from ten candles, resting on medieval lanterns hung on the walls. A few paintings sat crookedly between them. In the center of the room there was a circular table draped in purple cloth. A crystal ball sat in the center of it. On either side of it was a chair. In the one nearest the wall sat a woman.

This lady was unlike any human Zim had ever seen. She was tall and bony, dark skin pulled tightly over her frame. She was bedecked in plum-colored robes, a blood red sash over her shoulders. A scarf matching the sash was wrapped about her head, forming a turban. A black jewel rested on her forehead, and her smile was sly and knowing. But the oddest thing about her were her eyes. They were yellow, her pupils slits of black, as if she were not a woman, but a cat.

"Welcome, child," she called.

Zim hesitated to move closer, but the woman gave a laugh, frizzy grayish-black hair falling into her face. "Child, you worry too much. You can trust me."

Zim inched toward the chair. She motioned for him to sit. He did so.

"Please, child, say something. Tell me your name."

"Zim," the Irken replied half-heartedly.

"Ah, Zim," the woman said with a grin. "I know who you are. Now, how long have you walked on this earth?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Your age."

He didn't answer. There were two different ways to tell her this. One of them was unbelievable for a human, and he still didn't want to blow his cover.

She tilted her head back. "You wish to know how to tell me. But do not fear. I know your true identity."

Zim looked up at her in fear. "H-how did you-"

"I know many things, child. Tell me your age; in the years of this planet."

Zim closed his eyes. "One hundred sixty-four."

She woman smiled, amused. "And your age by terms of your planet?"

"Sixteen."

"Ah," she cooed. "Still rather young. Tell me, have you been on this planet long?"

"Five years."

She touched the gem on her head for a moment before looking him in the eye. "You require something of me."

Zim looked into those cat-eyes in awe. "What can you do?"

She held up a bony finger. "One wish. One. There is something you desire, more than anything else, correct?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"What is it?"

He closed his eyes and looked away. "I want to be normal. I want to be like everyone else of my kind. Not a…defect. I'm at the bottom of their hierarchy. They all hate me and…I just want to be like them. I'm nothing but a defect. The worst of my kind."

She fixed her gaze on him. "You are certain that this is what you desire above all else?"

"Yes."

"Then speak your wish once more. Exactly as you want it."

"Wait- will it be real? Not a different universe or anything?"

"It will be as real as the earth itself," she answered. "Now, speak your wish."

Zim gritted his teeth. "I want to be normal, not a defect. I want to be the perfect example of what the core of the Empire wishes."

"Very well."

Zim looked around him. The scene was tearing apart in front of his eyes inside a cloud of shining red dust. It enveloped him, and he began to scream. But the fortune-teller gazed at him with those cat eyes, unblinking. The images were fading from his sight. He began to close his eyes, and inexplicable exhaustion coming over him. A sharp pain in his back spread through his being, but he did not cry out. Everything was becoming black. Nothing but darkness, nothing but a void… And then sleep grabbed hold of him and he fell, unconscious, to the ground.

"_Your wish is granted._"


	2. Change

"_Your wish is granted._"

Zim's eyes opened slowly. How much time had passed? His limbs were stiff, and he felt a muted sensation of cold at his back. Realizing he was lying down, he made his way into a sitting position. The Irken looked down and found that the floor was of an empty room in his own base. He could see his own reflection. Something was different.

He was clothed in his Invader uniform, which was mysteriously black. Shifting slightly, he saw that the spots on his PAK, too, had changed color. There was a new seriousness to his eyes. But his appearance wasn't all that had changed.

His thoughts, the very fiber of his being, these were different somehow. Intently focused and unemotional. He didn't know how he could tell, but he knew he wasn't defective anymore.

Even with this revelation, Zim felt nothing but mild surprise. He questioned nothing; not his feelings, not his thoughts. Thinking about his past, about those outbursts and times where he showed his old colors…something about his emotions was distant. _Idiot,_ he said to himself. After all, he _had_ been a fool. But no longer. That was behind him.

He rose to his feet. He was certain that the change had indeed taken place; that he peculiar events of the previous night weren't just a dazed fantasy. And if he had gotten what he wanted, then there was something he had to do.

* * *

><p>"Incoming transmission," one of the Massive Pilots announced.<p>

The Tallest groaned. "Where from?" grunted Red.

"Planet Earth, sir."

Purple smacked his forehead. "Zim again? I thought he wasn't gonna call anymore." He paused and uttered a light laugh. "I remember the look on his face when we told him! Should we answer?"

Red thought for a moment. "Maybe. Why on Irk would he call? He knows what he is. I guess we'll just have to tell him again, the moron. Play the transmission," he barked at the Pilot.

The two lanky Irkens were shocked at what they saw on the screen. They'd expected a foolish-looking, ignorant Irken, either brimming with egotistic confidence or sniveling in shame. What they did see was a member of their race standing calmly, hands behind his back. Those ruby eyes were sober and still. His expression was solemn, as are those of hardened military men. And there was something about that uniform, black as the farthest reaches of space, which gave him a threatening air. Though all this was drastically different from the Irken they'd once known, it was still him.

"…Zim?" Purple stammered.

"Yes," came the response.

Red shook his head and looked at the screen. "What do you want? You know you aren't welcome."

Zim nodded. "I know, my Tallest. But you must understand that I am not the same as I once was." Zim had always been a notoriously loud speaker, screaming as he talked, but now each word was spoken in a clear and flat monotone.

Purple narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I am not a defect anymore."

The Tallest nearly burst out laughing. "Impossible," Red said. "How do you think THAT could have happened?"

Zim stared back intently. "I do not truly understand how it has happened. But I assure, you, things are different now. I wish to rejoin the Empire."

Red turned away. "Defects don't belong in the Empire, Zim."

Purple raised an antenna. He crossed over to Red and spoke in a hushed whisper. "Are you sure about this? Because something about him is…weird."

"Well? What do you think we should do?" Red snapped.

"We could scan his PAK…" Purple replied. "We got that new thingy installed, remember?"

"Fine," Red sighed. "But if this is a waste of time…"

The Tallest turned back to the monitor. "Alright, Zim," Purple said. "We're going to do a little…test."

Zim inclined his head. "Anything for you, sirs."

All could see on the screen what was happening. A long, thick wire ran from a teleporter into Zim's base, coiling like an earthworm departed from the soil. It stuck itself into his PAK and went still. For several minutes various pitches of beeps were heard. Zim stood rooted to the ground, never flinching. Finally, it removed itself and made its way back to the Massive's end of the teleporter. It sat plugged into the computer of the mighty ship for a moment, until the results echoed through the room.

"**Subject: Zim. PAK encoding: Exile. Status: Non-defective."**

Everyone watching the transmission stared at one another in shock. What was this?

Red and Purple shook themselves out of their reverie. Clearing his throat, Red made his way a bit closer to the monitor. "A few questions, Zim…"

"Ask anything, my Tallest."

"Ah…What matters most to you?"

"The Empire."

"What do you feel you need?"

"Your trust."

"Where do your loyalties lie?"

"With the Empire."

"Anything besides us?"

"No."

"What is your purpose?"

"To serve."

"Do you feel like having an outburst?"

"Negative."

"Do you have any desire to scream?"

"No."

"Anything else you want to say?"

"No."

The Tallest eyed each other curiously. Purple pulled Red aside. "So, what should we do about him?"

Red scratched his chin. "Something is definitely… different here. But we can't rush it. This might all be nothing but a trick."

Purple nodded and turned back to the screen. "Well, Zim, eh, we'll call you back in…er…a week. And, uh, if you're still like this, um…"

"We'll let you know then," Red finished. Zim curtly nodded and, with a salute, the transmission was cut.

Purple faced his comrade once again. "Do you think something good will come out of this?"

Red sighed. "I don't know. But whatever happens, we can use it to our own advantage."

Zim walked out of the room. He normally would have been ecstatic that he'd been given another chance, but nothing came over him but slight contempt. Instead of basking in a soon-to-be victory, he simply went upstairs. Now that he knew what he must do to regain the Empire's trust, he needed to check the date. He emerged in his kitchen. "Computer. Tell me the day and time."

"**Eleven twenty-three PM, Sunday.**"

Zim nodded. "Very well." So he had skool tomorrow. Oh, well. He'd have to go back sometime.

"**Uh, sir? Are you…okay?**" Even the machine running his base had identified the Irken's stiff tone.

"I'm fine." He paused for a moment. "I'm better than I have been in a long time."

But that remark was based on knowledge, not sensation.


	3. Wrestling

"Get back here!"

He ran through the halls, desperate to avoid his pursuers. Another day, another fight for his life. It seemed that they found reason to hunt him every day, and it was getting exceedingly old. But could he really do anything? He was always outnumbered by his attackers, and almost always they managed to cause some form of damage. He was still sore from yesterday, and the black eye he'd gotten last week hadn't healed. But, of course, he couldn't tell anyone. They were all on the side that wished to hurt him; everyone he knew.

Rounding a corner, their shouts grew fainter. He wasn't the best athlete, but he could run. It came with experience. Ever since the fifth grade he'd been racing against time and, later on, the pack who found joy in bringing him pain.

He paused to rest for a moment, feeling some sort of relief, but before much time had passed, he once again heard their voices, and fled.

_The courtyard,_ he thought. _The alley._ Pushing open a glass door, he ran into the outdoor courtyard. This was his opportunity. He couldn't run forever, but if he found a place to hide, he'd be able to catch his breath and survive until homeroom. There was a place on the other side of the school where two buildings met, forming a small alley behind the cafeteria. This was the best place to hide in spring, but now, in late November, it wasn't nearly as comfortable to use as refuge, but it was better than nothing.

He made it to the spot in less than five minutes. He knew every route, every shelter in this place.

It was a relief to catch his breath despite the frigid air. It was unusually cold for mid-November, and it stung his pale cheeks. _Is this how I'm going to spend every day of my life?_ He thought. _I can't take much more of this_.

He'd just begun to hear the voices when one of them popped up in front of him and pushed him against the wall. He fought against the muscular boy who opposed him, but his skinny figure did him no justice.

"Finally. You were tricky this morning," the bully said, an evil tint to his voice.

"Please," he begged. "Not again."

"Why?" the other responded. "You still hurt from last time?"

"Please, Torque, I don't want any trouble."

Torque stood in mock thought. "Nah," he said, "I'd prefer not to miss out on the perfect opportunity."

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, he walked into homeroom, a few bruises added to his ever-growing collection. The teacher eyed him curiously.<p>

"Sorry I'm late again," the victim mumbled. "I had some…complications."

"Sit down, Dib," the teacher replied curtly.

Dib shuffled over to his seat and laid his head on his desk. This was the ninth time he'd been late in the last three weeks. And, of course, it was for the same reason on each occasion.

After a minute of self-pity, he roused himself and fixed his gaze in the usual location. Five desks to the left, between the blond braniac and the girl with blue-violet hair. His mortal enemy.

Zim.

But there was something different today. Instead of returning the look with a sharp glare, the alien looked straight ahead, unmoving. His clothes were all black. _Wouldn't expect him to go Goth,_ Dib thought. That wasn't all that was different. There was something in his composure, too. He didn't slack idly as he often did when bored. He seemed uncannily stiff, and his eyes were blank somehow. It wasn't as if he didn't understand something. There seemed to be something…missing from them. Zim looked as if he'd lost some sort of thing, yet gained another.

Glancing at the blue-violet haired girl next to him, he saw that she, too, was eyeing the Irken oddly. Tak was no fool. Unlike the others, she could see. But perhaps this was because there was much more to her than meets the eye. Dib had known her for a few years now, and he couldn't help but get a mysterious vibe whenever she was around.

He'd only been seated for a minute when the bell rang for first period. He sighed. First he had P.E. Just about every class was torture, but this was the worst. The only skill he was remotely good at was running.

And, of course, today they were wrestling.

Dib stood nervously amongst the other lightweights, dreading his turn to step on the mat. He was horrible at wrestling, and he knew it. He'd only been able to beat a couple of nerds, and, of course, Zim. The alien was the only one worse than he was.

Coach Hitsu blew her whistle as Poonchy managed to pin another middleweight to the ground. "Nice work. Next up, from the lightweight section…Dib and Zim."

Dib let out a small smirk. At least something was going his way today.

"THREE! TWO! ONE! GO!"

That brief moment of satisfaction was short-lived as the green boy came flying at him. Growling, Zim had Dib pinned in a matter of seconds. The coach blew the whistle again, and the two were separated.

"What was that?" Dib screamed, but his rival was unresponsive as he walked back.

The wrestling was set up as a tournament. If you won a round, you'd battle the student in your weight group who'd previously won. After the last matches of the first round were completed, the second began. A few more kids on each side were eliminated until only two from each group remained. Each round he competed in, Zim grounded his opponent in under a minute. Same when he faced the opponents of other weight classes. Right up until the final round.

The other competitor was Torque Smackey, one of Dib's most frequent tormentors. Torque narrowed his eyes in amused determination. How the tiny kid had even made it this far was a mystery to the jock, but he had no doubt in his mind that he would win. Zim stood stiff as a pole, not a single emotion flickering across his face.

The whistle blew.

Immediately Torque lunged at the smaller boy, but Zim simply sidestepped the move. The bully growled and charged once again. Another perfect dodge. Growling with rage, Torque made another advancement, but with less force. Changing direction at the last second, he managed to nearly knock Zim over.

That was when it all went wrong.

Those eyes that had only a moment ago reflected nothing at all suddenly filled with fury. Letting out a wrath-filled shout, he jumped on the other child. The whistle blew to signify the green one's victory. But he didn't stop. He continued to strike at his foe, teeth grinding in a fit of temper. At last the coach pulled him off. He swatted at her, breathing heavily. She glared in response with chilling brown eyes, not one to be crossed. It got stranger. All the anger disappeared from Zim's countenance, and he simply walked away.

The bell sounded, and thirty boys ran out of the gym. Dib held back. Whatever was going on, it couldn't be good.

* * *

><p><strong>Zim is quite different, no? Will Zim be this way forever? Will the Tallest accept him? Will Dib discover the truth? Will I stop asking pathetic and annoying questions? <strong>

**You better.**

**...Please ignore the sparkly vampire. And remember-REVIEW!**


	4. Unfeeling

Dib cornered his enemy at lunch. Zim was sitting alone, as usual.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

The Irken didn't even look at him. "Go away. I'm not talking to you."

"Really? Why?" The human responded sarcastically.

"You are none of my concern."

"Since when did that happen?"

"Silence. If all goes according to plan, I'm never going to see you again."

"What do you mean, 'according to plan?'"

Zim eyed his rival. "None of your business."

Dib raise an eyebrow. "Any of your little 'plans' are my business. It's always been that way, and it always will be."

"Lies."

That was the oddest part of the conversation. To not hear him deliver that particular statement with a yell, Zim might as well have been a different species. This was getting too weird.

"What happened to you?" Dib whispered.

But his question wasn't answered. Torque and his gang were approaching them. Dib instinctively moved to the other end of the table. But for once, they weren't heading for him: the alien was their target.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Torque growled.

Zim looked the jock in the eye. "Nothing."

The bully pounded his fist on the table. "Do you think this is funny? No one does ANYTHING like that to me and gets away with it."

"You made me angry," Zim replied. "And no one does that and gets away with it."

Torque punched him in the face. Dib backed away, expecting Zim to blow up again. Anger was certainly on his countnance, but he did nothing but glare.

"How does that feel?" Torque asked in a half-mocking tone.

Zim returned the blow, knocking the other back a few inches. "It doesn't."

He began to walk away. Dib tried to follow, but Zim turned sharply around. "Stay away from me. I'm not the same little defect you knew." And with that, he left.

* * *

><p>It was like that all week. The quietness, the few blunt responses, the dull expression and stiff movements.<p>

Friday afternoon, Dib walked home, shivering in the cold. It was the bitterest day of the year so far. The frosty air was frigid enough that it hurt when a gust of wind blew in his face. The gray sky was filled with overstuffed clouds, ready to pour a mountain of snow down upon the earth below at the drop of a hat. The boy shivered and drew his coat around him. Three layers and it STILL wasn't enough to stop the icy shards of air from piercing his skin.

Something up ahead caught his attention. His enemy was walking sullenly along the sidewalk. Zim's eyes were narrowed with a slight irritation, as what was now usual, but other than that, he didn't seem to notice the freezing environment.

Dib quickly passed it off as another alien strength possessed by his foe, but upon looking across the street, he saw Tak shivering. This was getting too bizarre. Tak had always seemed the stronger of the two, despite her crushing defeat the last time they'd met. Dib noticed that her eyes were now trained on him. She gestured for him to come closer, and then darted around a corner.

He copied her trail. After walking a few more blocks, he noticed her standing in front of a small house. He shot her a questioning glance. Tak replied with a nod, and he followed her inside.

The living room they entered had light walls and purple furnishings. A sofa sat behind a glass coffee table, a red throw pillow tossed on one of the cushions. There was a complexity about the place that Dib knew was present, but couldn't quite grasp.

Tak leaned against the couch and raised an eyebrow at her guest. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed anything."

"About Zim?" Dib replied.

"Who else?" she snapped.

Dib didn't bother to retort to her nasty tone. "Yeah."

"Well, what do you know?"

The human was caught off guard by her curiosity. "Why do you care?"

"It's my goal to take him down. You know that perfectly well. And this…recent behavior is something that could affect that purpose."

The explanation seemed good enough. Dib cleared his throat. "He just… it's weird. He's always looked either emotionless or annoyed. And on Monday, he beat everyone he wrestled in gym. And then when he had to fight Torque…he just had this massive outburst. It was like he could've killed someone." He paused. "And I take it you've already noticed how he was in the cold. It was like he couldn't even feel it."

Tak sat on the arm of the sofa. "So, he shows no emotion except for anger?"

"Pretty much."

"Was there…anything particularly odd that he said?"

Dib thought for a moment. "There were a couple things…both on Monday. First, Torque hit him and asked him how it felt. All Zim said was 'It doesn't'."

The other tapped her chin. "And the other?"

"He told me 'I'm not the same little defect you knew.' But I have no clue what that means."

Tak ignored him and began to pace the room. "Maybe…no. Impossible."

Dib stood a bit taller, annoyed. "Can you please tell me what's going on?"

She looked up at him. "What do you need to know so badly?"

"What he was talking about when he said 'defect.'"

Tak sighed. "The Empire has a…unique way of keeping their people in control. When a smeet is born, it's given a PAK, then activated. The PAK is filled with information about the empire, and the smeet goes into training to become a soldier."

"Sounds like you all live horrible lives," Dib mumbled.

The Irken shot him and angry glare and continued. "Sometimes the information a PAK gives isn't what was intended. The Irkens whose PAKs contain 'bad' information are called defects. The Empire can't have defects in existence. The PAKs are supposed to eliminate strong emotion, and that could lead to rebellion. If a defect is found, they're deactivated."

"How do they tell the defects from everyone else?"

"Defects tend to have frequent outbursts. A lot of screaming, and they somehow differentiate themselves from everyone else."

Dib's eyes widened. "Zim."

She nodded solemnly.

"So, he's a defect?"

"Yes." Tak looked Dib in the eye. "The only thing I can come up with is that he isn't a defective anymore. It's impossible, but that's the one logical conclusion."

"But what about that outburst of anger?"

"Anger not directed towards the Empire isn't erased from a PAK."

Dib was silent for a moment. "That means…he can't feel anymore."

"He doesn't only seem to be non-defective," said the she-Irken, "but he isn't anywhere near it."

"Are there any other defects?"

There was a long pause as Tak thought it over. "There's at least one."

Suddenly their conversation was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Tak walked over cautiously and placed her hand on a scanner. The door became invisible from the inside, but Dib couldn't see the visitor. Tak opened the door with a look of shock on her face.

A small silver body rushed into the room. It landed on the sofa and curled up in terror.

Dib's jaw fell open at the sight of GIR. His right eye was its usual cheery blue, but the other was bright red, the light a bit fuzzy-looking. The right shoulder and the left palm of his hand were also like this. The robot was visibly shaken, tears rolling down his face.

"G-GIR? What- happened to you" Dib stammered.

"Mastah…" GIR whispered with a shudder. "…isn't Mastah anymore." Then he fainted.


End file.
